


The Grandest Finale

by Oldguybones



Category: IT - Stephen King
Genre: F/M, M/M, Pennywise as the ringleader who eats the children that attend their shows, The losers all have special powers, traveling circus au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-05
Updated: 2019-11-05
Packaged: 2021-01-23 08:29:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21317182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oldguybones/pseuds/Oldguybones
Summary: “Come one, come all! Witness the marvelous wonders of anatomical regeneration. That’s right! Step right up and see it with your own eyes. What appears before you is an ordinary man! But what you are about to find out is that he is, in fact, extraordinary!”The dense crowd gathered around the small, makeshift stage erupted with a course of “oh”s and “aw”s. They all watched mindlessly as Robert Gray, owner of the sideshow, bounced around the stage, adorned in the costume of his alternate persona, It was the namesake of their show, Pennywise’s Traveling Sideshow; every day he dressed and made himself up in the most unsettling, superfluous clown get up.Rumors amongst the performers said that the red streaking his face was, in fact, the blood of children stolen from their parents while attending the show. With each stop in their traveling show, children seemed to go missing at an alarming rate and it showed no signs of slowing anytime soon.
Relationships: OT7 - Relationship, Poly Losers Club - Relationship
Comments: 4
Kudos: 64
Collections: Poly Losers Club Fic Exchange





	The Grandest Finale

“Come one, come all! Witness the marvelous wonders of anatomical regeneration. That’s right! Step right up and see it with your own eyes. What appears before you is an ordinary man! But what you are about to find out is that he is, in fact, _ extraordinary _!”

The dense crowd gathered around the small, makeshift stage erupted with a course of “oh”s and “aw”s. They all watched mindlessly as Robert Gray, owner of the sideshow, bounced around the stage, adorned in the costume of his alternate persona, It was the namesake of their show, Pennywise’s Traveling Sideshow; every day he dressed and made himself up in the most unsettling, superfluous clown get up. Rumors amongst the performers said that the red streaking his face was, in fact, the blood of children stolen from their parents while attending the show. With each stop in their traveling show, children seemed to go missing at an alarming rate and it showed no signs of slowing anytime soon.

Collectively, the audience gasped as good ol’ Pennywise brandished the machete tucked into his belt. He held it out in front of him so they all had a clear view of it as the implications of its purpose hung in the air. Robert Gray, or Pennywise rather, was quite the performer; he knew how to captivate an audience, though oftentimes at the expense of his performers.

Currently, that expense was all paid to Stanley Uris, a man with the ability to regenerate any of his extremities. It came at an enormous cost to him, both in the effort to regenerate and the pain he had to suffer for the whole process. But Mr. Gray never minded the consequences, all he cared about was the benefit it served him. 

Stan waited, stiff as the boards he stood on in the center of the stage. His right arm was held straight out, perfectly perpendicular to his body and his eyes remained open, staring blankly out into the sea of people who were staring right back at him. The machete whistled through the air and with a practiced amount of strength behind its swing, it sliced through his arm, right below his shoulder. The sound of his arm falling to the stage with a disturbing thud made the audience collectively gasp in horror and disgust, but it did little to drown out the screams of agony Stan emitted as the familiar, blinding pain took over him. 

Pennywise let out a maniacal laugh, hopping delightedly around him. He bent down to grab Stan’s arm, lunging forward toward the front of the stage and waving the dismembered limb at the horrified audience. 

Stan fell to his knees, sobbing from the physical pain; he tried to concentrate beyond the shame he felt seeping into him from the looks of disgust from an audience of people who saw him as nothing more than a freak. Still, he poured all his energy into his newly missing limb, willed it to grow back, like he had nearly a hundred times before. 

He could feel himself growing weaker with each passing minute, but the sound of the enthralled audience before him brought a certain amount of reassurance to him. That meant it was working; he knew it was, he could feel every single movement of his new limb growing in. But the cheers sounding from the crowd meant the results were visible and the show was over once he proved his ability, as if that was all he was good for. 

He felt himself to be on the brink of consciousness when a pair of strong arms wrapped around him and scooped him up off the stage. Vaguely, in the distance, he could hear Mr. Gray ending the show after what he claimed to be the grand finale. Stan shuddered at the word.

It was a short trip back to their shared trailer; they gained the attention of their fellow performers, their other partners who hurriedly followed them inside. Mike laid Stan down on the couch, cradling his head while Bill moved to kneel beside him. In a moment, Bill's hand was brushing the sweaty curls off of Stan's forehead. 

"Stan, listen to me," Bill commanded gently, before forcing his voice to thicken with authority."You don't feel it. You don't feel the pain."

Stan inhaled a deep breath and then exhaled it in a shaky sigh of relief. His breathing returned to a steady rhythm, his eyelids no longer felt heavy. The debilitating pain previously plaguing him was nowhere to be found, thanks to Bill. 

He had the incredibly strong ability to control minds. With just his words, he was able to control people's thoughts and actions; he could make them do whatever he wanted. Rarely did he ever use this power outside of the show, though. He didn't think it was right to control people without their permission. It was wrong, it felt dirty, which was precisely why Mr. Gray took advantage of his power, of him. 

But he made the conscious choice, way back when, to never, _ ever, _use his ability on his partners. The thought of forfeiting their free will on his behalf made him sick to his stomach and he swore he'd never do it. Until one night, after Stan's first show, they brought him back to the trailer, still screaming and sobbing in pain. He hadn't meant to use it, but his reassuring words somehow melted into the necessary commands and just like that, the pain was gone. So it was and would remain to be the only instance he would ever control one of his partners. 

His voice softened back to its reassuring tone, "You're okay, Stan. We've got you." 

They all nodded in agreement. Mike moved to sit on the couch, guiding Stan's head to rest in his lap. Bev did the same with his feet and reached up to pull down the hand-knit blanket from the back of the couch, draping it over Stan. 

"We'll make you some tea," Ben offered warmly.

"And something to eat," Eddie added, moving towards the small kitchen. 

Richie followed Eddie into the kitchen, "I'll help."

"Oh, in that case, I think I lost my appetite," Stan joked playfully, looking up at Richie; his eyes were no longer drooping and he wore an exhausted, yet cheesy grin. Obviously the whole ordeal took a lot out of him, like it always did, but he felt worlds better. 

"Zing! Stan the Man is back lady and gents," Richie proclaimed with an equal amount of goofiness and fondness. They fell into a familiar rhythm in the kitchen, preparing a meal for the seven of them. In the background, the sound of the carnival could be heard, whirring machines and children shrieking. Sounds they had all grown accustomed to over the years; they were just familiar enough not to raise any concerns. 

What did get their attention, was a sudden, frantic pounding on the door, which caused it to shake in the frame. A handful of confused looks bounced between them all. Mr. Gray never knocked and they never had visitors of any kind so who in the world would be knocking on their door like this?

“Help me!” came a frightened cry from behind the door. It sounded like a child, a young one, who was obviously in some sort of distress. It was just beginning to get dark outside, certainly not the best time for a child to be all alone.

Ben dropped what he was doing and rushed over to the door, pulling it open. Everyone watched and he didn’t even have the chance to greet the kid before he was running up the stairs of their trailer and hiding behind Ben.

The poor kid had tears pouring down his face and he was shaking considerably, fingers clutching desperately in the fabric of Ben’s sweater. “Please! You have to help me! The scary clown is trying to eat me.”

Bill’s brows knit together in confusion as he moved away from Stan and over to the kid. He kneeled beside him, “What’re you talking about, buddy?”

The kid sniffled, still clinging nervously to Ben. “The scary clown with the orange hair and the sharp teeth!” He explained frantically. “He told me he had a secret to tell me! And that I had to come closer, but when I got closer, I saw all the teeth he had when he opened his mouth and so I ran away and I tried to find my mommy but there’s a ton of people out there and I couldn’t find her anywhere! I can’t find my mommy and I wanna go hoooome!”

“Okay, okay,” Bill said gently, nodding in understanding “We’ll find her, okay? Me and Ben will help you.”

“Thank you,” the kid mumbled quietly, reaching his arms up in Ben’s direction. He took the hint and lifted the kid up, holding him against his side as he and Bill exited the trailer. They walked through the carnival grounds as all the booths and rides began to shut down for the evening. For a few minutes, they wandered around, looking for anyone who matched the kid’s description of what his mom looked like. 

“Well who do we have here?" 

The two turned around to find Mr. Gray standing before them, no longer wearing his stage persona. Mr. Gray was a tall, slender man with beady eyes and sunken cheeks. Instinctively, Ben clutched the kid tighter against his side, resisting the urge to turn and walk away. 

"My name's Tyler and we're trying to find my mommy," the kid answered innocently, rubbing a closed fist over his eye. 

"I can help with that," Mr. Gray responded, in a voice that bordered between his own and his persona's. There was a look in his eyes as his gaze fixated on the kid, arms reaching out to grab him. 

Ben turned away slightly, just enough so that Mr. Gray's fingers barely brushed against Tyler's jacket. "No, I think we're okay. Thank you Mr. Gray."

"Oh, but I insist," he all but growled, reaching out to grab the kid again, more persistently this time.

Bill was just about to lunge in between them when they heard a woman's frantic voice cut through the tension. "Oh Tyler! Thank God! Sweetie, there you are!"

Bill’s gaze pierced through Mr. Gray’s facade of concern and remained fixed on him as Ben handed the child off to his mom. A bizarre mix of relief and worry rushed over the two performers. The child was safe and heading home with his mother; but how many kids had there been prior to this who hadn’t been so lucky? What were they dealing with here? It was an eerie feeling, contemplating the possibility that this wasn’t an isolated incident.

Still staring Mr. Gray down, Bill put his hand on the small of Ben’s back and gently guided him to start walking back towards their trailer. He began walking in Ben’s direction, still watching over his shoulder. The look Mr. Gray cast in their direction sent a shiver down Bill’s spine. 

“What’s happening, Bill?” Ben asked, his voice quivering with uncertainty. 

“I don’t know,” Bill whispered; he hated himself for it. 

Something was happening right under his nose and he had absolutely no clue. He didn’t know what was happening or how long it’d been happening; there had been countless rumors, _ jokes, _about Pennywise being involved in the disappearance of kids around their shows, but never in a million years did Bill think there was any degree of truth to them. They all hated Mr. Gray for what he did and how he treated them, but they didn’t think he would do this. Bill didn’t know what to think now; all he knew was that he needed to find some answers.

For days, it consumed him. He spent hours doing research on all their previous show locations and the cases of missing children in those areas on those specific days. The amount of information returned was alarming, to say the least. He felt a pit form deep in his gut; it felt like he couldn’t breathe, like someone had stolen all the air from his lungs. Almost every show they did correlated to a missing child, none of which were ever found again.

“Fuh-fuck!” he growled, pounding his fist against the small dining table he sat at. It was small, completely covered by pages and pages of his research. One single light overheard dimly illuminated them, bouncing off of the dark amber liquid in his glass. He snatched the glass in an angry fist and gulped down the rest of his drink, teeth clenched as it burned his throat. His head hung in his hands as a feeling of failure crept up on him. 

“Bill?” Eddie’s soft voice cut through the night air as he shuffled from the back of the trailer where their bed sat. He looked drowsy, but concerned nevertheless. 

Bill looked up at him and couldn’t help the brief smile to flicker across his lips. Eddie was wearing a pair of PJ pants and what looked like one of Richie’s shirts, if he recalled correctly. But Eddie frequently cycled through wearing all of their shirts so it was hard to tell. “Hey Eds,” he whispered shakily, eyes filling up with tears as Eddie sat down beside him. 

Richie also emerged from the bedroom area and slid into the opposite side of the booth. He reached over to grab one of Bill’s hands between his own as Eddie wrapped an arm around his shoulder and pulled Bill against his side. He pressed a kiss to the top of his sandy locks. 

“He’s taking children,” Bill could barely choke out the words, fingers trembling where they still clutched his empty glass. Richie brought his other hand up to his mouth, pressing a kiss to his knuckles. Bill’s gaze bounced back and forth between the two. “We have to do something.”

"We will," Richie assured him, nodding firmly. 

Eddie rubbed a hand up and down Bill's arm, "Come to bed with us. We'll figure it out in the morning, okay?"

Bill sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose and letting out a quivering sigh. "I think I'm gonna grab one more drink first."

Eddie glanced over at the bottle of whiskey sitting on the counter. He squinted and focused intently on it; after a moment, it wobbled and then shot across the room into his waiting hand. Pressing a kiss to Bill's temple, he poured another drink into his glass for him. 

Both Richie and Eddie watched as Bill downed the liquid. Then they led him back to their bed where he was greeted warmly by his partners, Mike spooning him and Stan curling up in front of him.

But despite being surrounded by all the love and affection any one person could handle, Bill couldn't and didn't sleep that night. 

He woke the next morning to Stan spooning him, pressed up against him by Eddie who was in turn pressed up against Stan. He smiles softly at the light grip Stan had on his t-shirt. 

"Good mornin'," Mike greeted him with a warm smile, leaning in to press a chaste kiss to his lips. "I'd ask how you slept," he began, tracing his thumb across Bill's cheek and right below his eye, "But obviously you didn't."

Bill leaned in to the touch and allowed himself to be comforted by the warmth and understanding that always seemed to shine in Mike's soft brown eyes. "I couldn't," he murmured, as if it needed to be said, as if Mike couldn't read him like an open book. 

"I'll make some coffee." Mike leaned forward again to kiss his forehead before slowly and gently detangling himself from Bev who'd had her arm and leg wrapped around him tightly. 

Gradually, over the next half hour, the rest of the losers came out to join Mike and Bill for coffee, although Stan and Ben both opted for tea instead. They cooked breakfast together, enjoying each other's company and the quiet morning before the chaos of the shows rained down on them; it always seemed to be looming over them, like the first dark cloud before the storm. 

"Okay, Bill, what gives?" Bev sighed lightly, "You've barely said a word all morning and we can all tell something is wrong."

"Mr. Gray, _ Pennywise _," Bill shivered at the thought of referring to Mr. Gray's stage persona as its own person, but in this case, it felt necessary. "He's kidnapping children from our shows and," Bill took a shuddering breath, "I think he's eating them."

"What?!" Bev exclaimed, her gaze doubling back towards Bill in an almost comical double take. "Okay back up...what the fuck? What are you talking about?" 

"After that thing with the kid yesterday, I luh-looked into it," Bill began, not quite frantic but there was a desperate edge to his voice, a passion for the truth and for justice. "As far back as I could. And at every single show, at least one kid goes missing. From right under their parent's nose. Of all the accounts I read, they didn't even know their kid was missing at first."

"Jesus," Richie muttered under his breath, like the statement had buried itself beneath his skin. He couldn't even remotely comprehend how the parents didn't notice their fucking child was gone. One minute they were there and the next they were gone? It just didn't add up.

"That doesn't make any sense," Ben added in, with the same mix of concern and confusion like everyone else. 

"But it's happening," Bill replied brokenly, looking around at his partners. They could all see the desperation on his face. "And we have to stop it."

"We're all behind you, Bill," Bev assured him, reaching across the table to grab his hand. 

The others responded similarly with their own show of affection. 

"How are we gonna stop him?" Stan asked, rooting himself deep in realism to keep himself from shriveling up with fear. The thought of this happening was far worse than the dread he felt before each show and he didn't think anything could feel worse than that. 

Bill drug in a deep breath to his lungs and held it for a moment, before exhaling it with his determined words. "Okay, here's how we're going to do it."

The seven of them had been running shows for close to three years and they had never felt as nervous as they did for the rest of that day. It wasn't an overstatement to claim lives depended on them, because there was absolutely no denying that. If they weren't successful, Pennywise would continue to run his scheme and who knows how many people would suffer the consequences? 

The plan began simply enough, go through the show as if it was any ordinary day. Ben would be the opener, as he usually was; it worked in their favor, seeing as he could easily create multiple decoys. 

And then Bev, Eddie, and Richie would all join him; they usually did a joint performance together. It consisted Eddie using his telekinetic powers to throw knives in Bev and Richie's direction. Because of his ability to contort himself in a superhuman way, Richie was forced to dodge them which resulted in them hitting Bev instead. 

The first few shows they did, Eddie reacted viscerally and could barely make it off the stage before getting sick and puking. Still, he had to frequently remind himself that Bev felt none of it. Even if the knife did manage to pierce through her thick skin, she wouldn't feel a thing. It didn't stop him from bandaging those cuts, even if there wasn't any medical need to do so; he'd even press a kiss over the bandage. Him and the others took turns massaging Richie's tired and aching body after a show of contortion and bone alteration. 

Tonight they would be forgoing all their after show rituals for something much more important. And everything seemed to be going according to plan; the four of them were stationed in Mr. Gray's trailer, waiting to surprise him after the show while the last three followed him there to make sure he didn't make any other stops prior to his arrival. 

But then something happened. An unusual change in the agenda of the show. Stan had been closing the show for some time now, always by himself. He was the grand finale. 

So for Pennywise to eagerly call Mike to the stage, it felt unnerving and the unpredictability made Bill want to call the whole thing off. But they couldn't. His partners were strong; they could get through this. 

"Ladies and gentlemen, prepare yourselves to witness a never before seen performance tonight," Pennywise declared gleefully as he bounced toward the front of the stage. He leaned forward like he was about to tell them a secret. "Have you ever heard of anything more fascinating than a man who can regrow his limbs at his very own will? How about a man who can read minds or even one who can _ control _ minds?" Pennywise snapped his head to the side, to make direct, _ chilling _ eye contact with Bill as he stood backstage. He let out a maniacal cackle, "Oh boy are you in for a treat because you are about to witness all three!"

All Bill could do was shake his head in confusion as Mike and Stan turned their attention to him for guidance, for reassurance. But he had none to offer. They were in uncharted territory here. 

Bill watched as Pennywise's fingers curled around the handle of his machete. He prepared himself for the long speech that came with Stan's act, where he enticed and baited the crowd into equal parts excited and scared. 

But as soon as he brandished the weapon, he wasted no time in swinging it through the air and slicing right through Stan's left leg. It cut right above the knee and the sudden loss of his leg forced him to the ground, falling onto his hands and barely able to catch himself. 

Mike and Bill were both about to rush to his side but Pennywise's gloved hand grabbed a hold of Stan's hair, harshly yanking his head up. The area was filled with his pained screams before and they continued, along with sobs of fear as Pennywise pressed the blade of the machete to his throat. 

"See, the funny thing is Stanley Uris has the mind-blowing power to regrow his limbs, his arms, his legs, ears, fingers, toes, tongue," Pennywise seemed to go on and on listing the different parts of Stan's body. He giggled inappropriately as he informed the audience of something a little south of the border he could chop off and regrow. That had been a particularly brutal show. "But never once before has he regrown his head."

Pennywise pressed the machete tighter against Stan's throat, causing it to break the skin and a single drop of blood trickled down his pale skin. He let out a fearful sob, but it was drowned out by the reactions of the audience, a mix of horrified gasps and sick calls for Pennywise to do it. 

"Stop!" Bill yelled, his voice automatically acquiring the authoritative tone necessary to make the recipient of it do whatever he wanted.

Pennywise did not stop.

"So we're going to play a little game," he went on, "Answer all my questions and Stanley here won't have to find out if he has the ability to regrow his head."

Bill and Mike both fumed with anger but they had no other choice; they had to play along with Pennywise's demented game and then they could make sure he was never able to hurt another soul ever again. 

“How do we play?” Mike asked, the words coming out dangerously quiet. 

“We’re going to ask Stan here a question,” Pennywise began to explain. He made no move to release Stan’s hair from his hold and it made both Mike and Bill stand on edge. “And rather than answering aloud, Mike is going to read his mind to find out the answer.”

The crowd erupted with a course of intrigued noises.

“But how on Earth will we know that Mikey here is telling us the truth?” Pennywise questioned rhetorically, a glint of mischief in his eyes as he peered back at Bill. He brought the machete away from Stan’s throat long enough to use it to beckon Bill onto the stage. “Billy boy will be ensuring that happens by using his powers of mind control on Mike.”

Bill reluctantly trudged onto the stage to join his partners and he immediately wanted to refuse, to insist that he wouldn’t participate in such a sick game that required him to use his powers against his partner’s free will. But then, Stan looked over at him. Behind his hazel eyes was a devastating amount of pain and a pleading for it to be over already. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered to Mike as he knowingly turned to face him. 

Mike nodded softly in understanding. He met Bill’s gaze and held it firmly. 

“Tell the truth,” Bill commanded, using the specific tone designated to his powers. “When you read Stan’s mind, tell nothing but the truth. Don’t lie.” His face tightened in a scowl, throwing a glare in Pennywise’s direction. It was like a silent “_ Are you happy?” _ and the ear to ear grin Pennywise wore answered, “ _ Indeed I am.” _

“What is your name?” Pennywise asked, theatrically looking up at Mike. “Well, what’s the answer?”

“He said that’s a stupid question,” Mike answered with the smallest hint of a smile tugging at his lips. 

“Alrighty then, we’ll skip the easy ones. What is your biggest fear?”

Mike felt his heart ache as he read Stan’s mind for the answer. He swallowed the lump in his throat and answered truthfully, “He said losing his family.” He knew exactly what Stan meant when he said family. 

“And where is the rest of your _ family _right now?” 

The audience waited and watched, captivated by the show in the most superficial way. This could all be staged for all they knew and they certainly had no clue what sinister undertones were hiding within Pennywise’s questions. But it didn’t really matter to them. The suspense was enough to keep them hooked in.

“Waiting.”

It was a struggle for Stan to keep his answers vague in his mind when every fiber of his being was crying out in pain as his leg slowly regrew. Until it was fully regrown, it would be agony to endure. 

“For what?” Pennywise questioned, his voice coming out in almost a sinister growl.

“You.”

“And where are they waiting?” Pennywise implored, his hand gripping the handle of the machete tighter in anticipation as he brought it back down to press against Stan’s throat.

Mike choked on the next words to come from his mouth, the truth from Stan’s mind. “No, no, no, please. I don’t want to die like this.” 

The audience gasped in horror.

“What’s the real answer?” Pennywise insisted, moving the machete so that the tip pressed against his adam’s apple. 

“In your trailer.”

For a split moment, Bill’s stomach dropped. He didn’t know what was about to happen now, or how much danger they or the rest of their partners were in. Until he finally saw them. 

Ben, Bev, Eddie, and Richie all stood across the stage from him, standing behind the curtain and out of Pennywise’s sight. Considering his answer, it must’ve meant that Stan couldn’t see them either. Their plan had involved taking Pennywise down in his trailer, but at this point, they were willing to do it whenever they were able to.

Now or never.

Bill nodded subtly, giving them the go ahead. Eddie’s eyes squinted immediately as he focused in on the machete in Pennywise’s hand; a moment later, it tore from his grip and flew into Eddie’s waiting hand. 

Immediately, Pennywise’s head snapped to the side to stare down at them. He used his grip to shove Stan to the ground before stomping over to the far end of the stage where Ben pushed to move in front of the rest of them. 

“Over here asshole,” Ben’s voice rang across the opposite end of the stage from where he previously; Pennywise spun around to find him standing there with a smug look on his face. 

Bev took her cue and sprinted across the stage to jump on Pennywise’s back. Her legs wrapped around him tightly as he thrashed around to try to throw her off. With her sharp fingernails, she clawed at his face, the blood creating a stark contrast against his white face. 

Finally, Pennywise reached back and grabbed a hold of her shirt. He then threw Bev across the stage, her back colliding harshly with the thick metal pole holding up the curtains. Before he could turn around, Richie rushed forward with the machete Eddie had handed him and swung it down against Pennywise’s neck. It stuck halfway in, firmly in place. Richie went to pull it back out again, but Pennywise spun around to face Richie and ripped the machete from his neck with a graphic spurt of blood. 

Pennywise raised the machete up and swung it towards Richie’s neck. With quick reflexes and the ability to safely change the configuration of his bones, he snapped his neck backwards so that the blade just barely scraped against him. 

Richie laughed triumphantly as he brought his head back onto his shoulders, “Too slow motherfucker.”

With Pennywise’s attention still fixed on Richie while an enraptured crowd watched on, Mike ran at him full force and tackle him to the ground. Ben teleported over to hold down one of his legs as he thrashed around; Eddie then ran over to hold down the other. Bev and Richie each took one of his arms. Bill moved over to press the bottom of his shoe to Pennywise’s forehead. 

His jaw unhinged and revealed hundreds of sharp fang like teeth. It was a horrifying sight, especially as he flailed about in a frantic attempt to break their hold. But between the six of them, they were able to hold him still, at least long enough until Stan came limping over to them, 

His leg had mostly regrown, but it was still a little tender. The lingering pain he felt brought an extra sense of bitterness as he brandished the machete Pennywise had used to chop off numerous limbs of his countless times. It seemed poetic that the roles would soon be reversed. 

“Looks like you’re the one who’s going to get his head chopped off today,” Stan declared coldly and brought the machete down against Pennywise’s exposed throat. He did so again and again as Pennywise continued to taunt him through it. Blood seeped out of his mouth and sprayed the performers as he wheezed out a pathetic laugh. He was about to say something but Stan brought down the machete one final time to severe Pennywise’s head altogether. 

The losers all fell back in relief. The crowd that stood before them, having just watched the whole endeavor, soared to life with claps and wild cheers. It was an unsettling feeling for the seven of them and it wasn’t hard to make the assumption that it was because they thought assumed this was part of the show. The crowd was blissfully ignorant and had no clue that this wasn’t in any way staged. 

They all stood, covered in blood in varying degrees and slowly moved towards the center of the stage, joining hands and taking a bow. The crowd continued to cheer. They bowed again and again. For this had been the greatest show of their careers, even if they were the only seven who knew what they had done and how many lives they had saved. 

It truly was the grandest finale they could’ve ever imagined.


End file.
